Preamble: This story is a sequel to One and a Half Revolutions Around the Sun and a prequel to Ends of the Earth, but can be read on its own.

I look at the clock. 2 am. Makes sense. Feels like an hour since the last train went by overhead. Oh, and the streets are dead. That's probably a sign it's time to pack up.

Business today was a little lighter than usual, but I'm in no mood to complain. Which says a lot, since I'm good at complaining. I barely slept the past few weeks thanks to lame runaround gofer jobs (translation: not hard, just stupid and tedious), so closing up early - well, closing up at the normal time I'm supposed to be closing up - is fine with me.

I feel like I haven't seen anybody - really seen anybody, Keiko or Kuwabara or Shizuru or Yukina or Kurama or anybody - for ages. Just talked to them on the phone. Sure, people stop by all the time, but everyone's on their way to somewhere else. Nobody's fault, everybody's busy. It takes effort to pull yourself out of the routine that we're all starting to fall into with work, studies, or whatever. Life is weird. Routine is weird. Being responsible adults is weird. Especially when you're talking to yourself in your head and you still sound exactly like the stupid 14-year old punk you remember being.

I don't bother counting the cash for the day. I'm so beat I'm pretty sure I'll fuck it up. Just put it away and start cleaning. Soaping, rinsing, drying, wiping down counters, all that exciting stuff. The stall is tiny, so I have this trick where I pile all the clean pots and pans and strainers and shit together, and depending on how neatly I stack, the whole thing can get about three feet high. I can lift it all up at once to set it out of the way while I clean everything else, and then put it all away. It saves a ton of space, not to mention time. And it'd probably kill a normal person. Or at least throw out their back. But hey, I ain't exactly normal.

Only this time when I do it, one of the knives falls out and clunks on the ground. Damn it. Have to clean that one again. For a second I think about kicking it up and snatching it out of the air, but then I think, ehh, I'm so tired I'll probably do something stupid, like slice rubber off my shoe or grab the blade or something. Probably my one intelligent decision of the evening. (Morning.) So I hug the big pot in one arm and bend down and grab the knife.

While I'm down there, I realize, hmm, that was kinda dumb. I coulda just put the big pot and all the crap inside it down somewhere instead of holding onto it. Whatever. Like I said, I ain't a normal person, so it's fine. Without thinking, I pop the knife into the pot with all the other utensils, and then I realize, shit, now the dirty knife is touching a bunch of other stuff and now I have to clean all the stuff it touched again.

Fucking stupid. I sigh, hold onto the pot with both hands, and get back up.

And look straight into the eyes of a man sitting at the bar, where five seconds ago there was nobody.

"It's good to see you again, Your ex-Majesty," he says calmly in that deep, familiar voice.

I got enough sense left that I don't lose to my first instinct, which is to clobber unexpected demons who appear out of nowhere in the face. Or to my second instinct, which is swear. Or to my last instinct, which is scream like a little girl. No, all I do is let go of all the shit I'm holding. And by "let go" I mean practically fling it out of my hands. Pots and utensils fly eeeevverryyywheree and bounce around, clattering inside and outside the stall. It's a miracle nothing hits him.

I drop down again to a low crouch, getting my bearings. I honestly didn't feel anybody come up to the counter. Sure, I wasn't exactly expecting him, so I wasn't watching out for his aura. And he's probably doing some energy cloaking. And I know he can move silently. But I still can't believe I'm so exhausted I didn't detect his arrival at all.

I hear the stool scrape as he stands up and peers over the counter. "Forgive me. It was not my intent to startle you." He sounds concerned.

"It's cool," I reply from the ground. "I just wasn't expecting my magical demon nanny to show up right when my life is in shambles."

"...Your life is in shambles?"

"No. I'm being facetious." I get up quickly - too quickly, and bang my head - hard - against the bottom of one of the lower shelves. "Ow! Fuck!"

"Are you all right?" he asks, sounding even more concerned.

I stand up fully, avoiding the killer shelf this time, and rub the back of my head. Surprise! It stings. Goddamn shelf. I glare at it, and see that the shelf is now kinda warped. Great, now what am I gonna put there? Goddamn skull. "Yeah. Ain't it obvious I'm the picture of perfect physical and mental health and everything is peachy? What the hell are you doing here?"

My Magical Demon Nanny(™), a.k.a. warrior monk and former head of Raizen's army-turned Makai Emperor's representative slash administrative right hand slash deputy emperor (what a mouthful) Hokushin, looks at me, and in one smooth motion sets a bunch of utensils down on the counter in a long, neat row. All - no kidding - organised by type and size. He must've picked them all up while I was busy knocking my head. He doesn't reply immediately, and I can tell from his expression he's trying to decide how to answer both of my questions.

I take the moment to take in his appearance. Since I haven't seen him in forever and all. It's… really weird. Not that he looks weird or anything. Actually, he looks... perfect. As in, perfectly put together, in this snazzy tailored jacket and patterned scarf. Like one of those older men models you see selling luxury watches or cologne or some shit like that on billboards in Ginza. Bizarre-o. Did the Makai start employing Human World fashion consultants or something? Anyways, he looks like a hundred million yen and not like somebody who'd be caught eating ramen out of a plastic container at 3 am under a train pass. Much less being served by a sleep-deprived dude wearing a stained shirt and apron who just threw dirty knives everywhere.

Finally, he sidesteps the rhetorical question. "I just completed an assignment from the emperor. I realized it was near your neighbourhood, so I thought I would find your shop and see how you were doing. In your…" He glances around. "...natural environment."

I laugh and wave an arm around my stall. "Welcome to my humble abode. I'd offer you a bowl of ramen on the house but I just finished cleaning up for the night. Day. Whatever." I look down at the utensils on the counter. And the pots at my feet. And sigh. "Okay, I guess I just started cleaning up."

"I am sorry," he says. "Is there anything I can do?"

He sounds so contrite that I almost laugh. "Don't commit seppuku," I say.

He shakes his head. "Is there anything I can assist you with?"

"Uh, have you seen how tiny this space is?" I reply, gesturing around again. "You're gonna be elbowing me in the face if you come back here. Anyways, it wasn't you. I already fucked up before you got here and was gonna clean everything again anyways."

"I see," he says.

I collect the utensils from the counter. "Gimme half an hour," I tell him. "Then I lock up, we go home, and I'll make you something there."

"Thank you for the offer," he says. "It is generous, but unnecessary."

Not this again. I give him a look. "Okay, dude, I haven't seen you in forever. Two questions. Yes or no. You in a rush?"

"No."

"You eat anything in the last four hours that qualifies as dinner or breakfast?"

He pauses. "No."

"Then sit down, shut up and wait."

He pulls the stool in and sits down again. I pick up all the pots and pans from the floor and get up, facing the sink, my back to him. I look over my shoulder. "And lemme know if you see me start to do something dumb."

He looks at me with an expression of barely-hidden amusement, and nods once.

...

Mom usually slept in late even before I started working a night shift, so I'm surprised when I open the door to the apartment and find her standing in the foyer. She's fully dressed in a fancy trench coat, pants that mean business, and heels good for stabbing people. Her hand is frozen in midair, reaching towards the doorknob, or where the doorknob would've been if I hadn't opened the door.

"What are you doing up so late? Or early?" I ask.

She shrugs. "You work odd hours, sometimes I do too." She notices Hokushin behind me and lifts an eyebrow.

"Oh, this is Hokushin," I say. "Hokushin, my mom. Atsuko." I step inside the door and motion for him to follow.

"The pleasure is mine." He bows politely and extends a hand. She shakes it, then places her hand on her hip and looks him up and down, appraising him. Then she looks back at me.

"What," she says, eyebrows waggling. "You're bringing customers home now?"

"No. I invited him home for fun, not work." I reply. A full second later I process her eyebrow waggle and the tone of the word "customers", not to mention my own answer. God, I really am tired. "Wait-no. Holy fuck, mom, no. NO. Hokushin's a friend. And a super powerful demon who eats humans. So don't piss him off."

"Oh yeah? I got a couple ex-boyfriends I could send his way."

I know she's in full-on joke mode, but it's amazing how fast this headache comes on. "Mom, just- just go. Go have fun. Somewhere else. Okay?"

"Okay, see you, sweetie. Nice to meet you, Handsome Well-Dressed Demon Man. Give me a call when you're done with my son. Toodles!" She wiggles her fingers at Hokushin and me and steps out.

"Toodles. Have a nice day." I shut and lock the door after her.

"I no longer eat humans," Hokushin says from behind me. "And even if I did, I would not eat your mother."

"I know," I reply. "I was trying to get rid of her." I hang up my coat. "I'm gonna go find a bucket for my vomit and take a shower now. Make yourself at home."

He stares at the closed door for a few seconds, then says, "She must be a descendant of King Raizen."

"Huh?" I look at him. "Oh. Ha. Guess so. Her or one of the exes she's gonna send your way. Bon appetit."

"Perhaps," he replies. "But I have a feeling it's her."

"Probably." I yawn. "Anyways, I'll make you something when I get out, or if you can't wait just help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. You can amuse yourself with the TV. The remote's on the couch. -For fuck's sake!" I turn the corner to a monster lump of laundry, a messy pile of clothes I know are clean because I literally washed them yesterday, and a trail of beer bottles and snack food wrappers. "How'd this happen in less than one day?!"

Living with my mom is like living with an alcoholic three year old sometimes. Ugh, whatever. I decide to deal with it after the shower. I grab a change of clothes and dump what I'm wearing on the floor outside.

Hot water on.

Heaven. Life is perfect.

Hot water off.

Meh.

When I get out of the shower, I can hear the TV running some show with celebrities doing stupid things in front of a live audience, like looking for chocolate disguised as objects in a room by trying to eat them. Not exactly the kind of entertainment I woulda guessed he'd be into, but whatever. I ain't gonna judge. I change into a clean shirt and boxers and come out of the bathroom, drying my hair with a towel. "Hey, Hokushin-" I start.

Then I stop.

My jaw drops. My towel falls to the ground.

The floors are fucking spotless. Even the dirty clothes I left outside the bathroom are gone. Three neat stacks of folded clothing lie on the bed in my mom's room. In the background I can hear the quiet rumble of the washing machine.

I feel a sting in my eye. I've never seen anything so beautiful. I wanna cry.

"Yes?" he says, his head peering into the hall. When I don't reply, his floating head snakes down the hallway towards me, followed by his stretched neck, and then the rest of his body steps into view.

The body is holding a broom and dustpan in his hands. He's ditched the scarf and jacket, but the shirt and pants underneath and, for god's sakes, even his fucking socks still look like they belong in a retail window in Omotesando.

I stare at him, eyes wide.

"What is it?" he asks while the rest of his body walks over to his head, and his neck retracts back into a more human-looking configuration.

"You really are a magical demon nanny," I whisper in hushed tones. I pretend to push him towards the closet. "Quick. Hide before my mom gets back, or you'll never return to the Demon World."

"What are you going on about?" he replies. "All I did was take out the garbage, put the laundry in the machine and fold the clean clothes."

I let go and shake my head sadly as I head past him to the kitchen. "And now you can never return to the Demon World."

He puts down the broom and dustpan and follows me to the kitchen. He pauses by the dinner table, then reaches waaaay back to pick up the towel from the ground, tossing it into the laundry bin by extending his arm all the way down the hall and around the corner. Now that's what stretchy powers are for.

Then he turns off the TV without using the remote. Show-off.

He folds his arms. "I think I see what you meant about your life being in shambles."

"What?" I pull a beer out of the fridge. Or I would have, if there was any beer left in the fridge. Gee, I wonder where it all went. I pull out the carton of milk instead and glare at him from over the fridge door. "My life is fine. All humans live like this. Didn't they teach you anything during Human World cultural sensitivity training?" I chug the milk aggressively while grabbing ingredients - meat, vegetables, eggs, whatever - and tossing them onto the table with my other hand. (Okay, maybe not the eggs. I put those down carefully.) Then I close the door with my foot, scratch my back and burp.

"Clearly they left a few things out," he says dryly.

"Ha ha." I set the milk carton on the table and brace my arms against the counter. "Seriously, though - thanks. I dunno how the hell this place ends up like this all time. Actually, I know how. It just left the building in six inch stilettos. And no offence, but-" I fling my hand in the direction of the laundry bin and broom. "-how do you even know how to do this stuff?"

He shrugs and sits down at the table, facing me. "Cultural sensitivity training."

I laugh. "What, they have a class in Domestic Duties 101? Maybe my mom should take it." I start up the rice cooker, then go through the cabinets and the fridge again for condiments. I lay everything out on the table to see what I've got. Mirin, sake, dashi, soy sauce, sugar... "By the way, how's the non-human diet working out for you?" I eye him. "You're not in any danger of starving to death, are you? You OK with chicken?" I hold up an egg. "Memories of Unborn Chicken?"

He shakes his head. "No. On the starving question. Not for a couple hundred years, at least. There's promising work adapting Human World stem cell research with Yoshoku ningen to create a nearly 1 to 1 replacement that would be acceptable to Spirit and Human Worlds as well. It is a priority project for the emperor. I am fine with chicken. And eggs."

I squint while slicing the onions, then chop the scallions into teeny tiny rings. Chopchopchop. "Yoshoku ningen?" I repeat. "Cultivated humans? That sounds familiar." I move the onions into bowls, then flip the board and speed-cut the chicken.

"Yes, you encountered them before," he says. "I recall reading about it in your Reikai files. One of your early cases - Maze Castle, I believe."

I think hard while beating the eggs, and then it comes to me: the human-shaped zombie-plant things that were all over Kuwabara, Kurama, Hiei and me when we were trying to get to Suzaku. I make a face. "Ew."

He gives me a look. "Less 'ew' than the alternative," he replies.

"Yeahhhh, okay," I reply. Can't argue with that. I mix and boil the sauce in the frying pan, then layer the onions and the chicken. The kitchen fills with a fantastic sizzling smell. "So, let's play catch up. How're you holding up? How's Touou, Nankai and Seizan?"

"Very well," he says. "And the other generals have all found employment in the current administration. That smells very good."

"Yeah? What're they doing?"

"Various aspects of foreign affairs, development and trade. It seems the citizens of our former territory have a leg up in this area, since we were already accustomed to adopting human appearance. Seizan is involved in economy and finance, Touou is in security, and Nankai is part of cultural affairs."

"Nice. Sounds like everyone found a good fit." I drizzle the egg over the chicken.

"Indeed. Actually, you may have seen some of Nankai's work already. He helped with the visas for 3ccult."

I pause. "The idol group? Koto, Juri and Ruka?"

"The very same."

"Wow, that's great! Good for him." I'm proud of my former generals. For a split second I consider asking if Nankai could help me with some of those stupid celebrity autograph requests I keep getting for the idol group, but then I decide nah, better not. Nankai was always a little too enthusiastic about trying to make me emperor. Can't risk corrupting the government. This early. Ha ha. "So, they all dress as fancypants as you? What's up with the outfit?"

"The Human World is the only one with limited awareness of the co-existence of the three worlds," he replies. "Obviously, we intend for this to change. Gradually. The emperor is a firm believer in first appearances, as well as helping to soften the shock for humans as much as possible. It is all intended to facilitate a smoother transition and the building of relationships in government, business, everyday life - everything."

"Enki thinks high end fashion equals smoother transitions?" I shake the pan. "Beer belly Enki? Sweatpants 'n' Salonpas Enki?" Don't get me wrong, I love good ol' Enks. He's like the jolly uncle I never had, and he can whup my ass. I couldn't be happier that he's the emperor. But swanky stylemeister he ain't. "You're gonna give humans an unrealistic expectation of what demons are like." I picture Chuu downing a keg, and snicker. "They'll be in for an even bigger shock when they see the rest of the Demon World."

"No more than you gave everyone an unrealistic expectation of what humans are like," he points out. "Before overturning the government. All humans and demons are different."

I look over at him. He looks back calmly without giving me anything else to pounce on. I frown. Fine, Hokushin. Just fine. You go on with your being a mature rubbery dude and only stating facts. Not fair.

I turn back to the pan. "You remember I said you should all visit, right?" I say instead. "And I'd give you guys a tour of the Human World?"

"I do," he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.

I add the green onions and turn off the heat. "Well, get to that item on your to-do list," I tell him.

"As you wish."

I head to the rice cooker, ladle out a bowlful, and dump the contents of the frying pan on top. I plop the oyakodon in front of him with a "Here ya go!" Then I throw everything in the sink and start washing.

"This is excellent," he says from behind me. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks," I reply over my shoulder.

"Any thoughts on moving forward with your cooking lessons mandate?" he asks.

I grin at the memory, and shake my head. "Nah," I say. "If there's one thing I've learned, I'm a crappy student. And probably a crappier teacher. You guys are lucky I didn't get to be your crappy king for too long."

"Is that so." He sounds like he disagrees, but doesn't press further. "How is the ramen stand doing?"

"Really well," I say. "Surprisingly."

"I'm not surprised," he says. "Perhaps one day you can think about franchising."

"Heh. Maybe. You know, it was supposed to be a front, but I think it's actually turning into a legit business."

"A front?" he says between neat mouthfuls.

I wipe my hands dry on a towel. "Yeah. I was trying to set up a knock-off Spirit Detective gig, 'cause I thought there'd be big demand for it with the barrier coming down. But ya know, ghosts and demons are too well-behaved. Most of the so-called 'cases' aren't even supernatural. Just humans dicking around. I'm beginning to think it ain't worth the effort." I come over to the table and pick up the close-to-empty carton of milk. "The stakeouts in empty buildings, the dumpster-diving research..." I tilt my head back and take a swig.

"The cross-dressing at all-girls' schools?"

I spit out everything. Lucky for him, I'm facing the side and only end up spraying the wall.

"Forgive me," he says, during a break in my choking and coughing. "The other generals and I were worried about you. We, ah, sent out a couple of Makai insect drones to see how you were doing."

I wipe my mouth with the back of my free hand. I don't say anything 'cause I'm, you know, still in a Freaking State of Shock. "We stopped after less than a handful of forays," I hear him say. "This was a while ago. I believe... we learned our lesson. If it helps, the general reaction was little more than what just happened with the milk."

He sounds kinda embarrassed. I've never heard him sound embarrassed. The only coherent thought in my head is that I really don't need to confirm he actually looks embarrassed. I feel my face and ears starting a mild burn, and I keep my eyes firmly glued to the dripping wall.

I take about ten seconds trying to recall every job where Keiko enthusiastically volunteered her closet. I then take another five seconds attempting to dredge up the sorry details before deciding my brain isn't up to the task at the moment. Or any moment. Ever.

Without looking at Hokushin, I take the carton and slam it on the table, crushing it into a compacted square. Then I go to the counter and rip a paper towel off the roll. I wipe my face, rip a few more sheets off the roll, walk over to the wall, and methodically clean it.

When the wall is clean, I rest my forehead against it and close my eyes.

"Okay," I say. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say any of that."

"Understood."

I push myself off the wall. I crumple the towels, throw them out, walk back to the table, and slide into the chair across from him.

His bowl is almost empty. "You are not eating?" he asks.

"Already ate," I reply. I rub my eyes and yawn again.

"When?" he says sharply.

"Around midnight." I can't help it anymore. The hot shower euphoria's totally worn off, and even the trauma from imagining all my bald nannies seeing me prance around in a skirt and stockings isn't enough to keep me going. (And now that I've described that in my head, well, that's a sobering thought to last me the rest of my long demon life.) I can feel my eyelids starting to shut down.

He looks at me, and then at the clock. "It's nearly 7 am," he says. "Your stall opens around six; you still need time for prep. I won't keep you further."

"Nah, it's fine," I say, even though I'm straining and can barely make out his face. "Second wind. I'm past the 'I'm dying' stage. Heck, I passed the 'I'm dead' stage twice."

As I talk, I feel my head bobbing. I get the feeling my face is closer to the surface of the table than it probably should be when you're, you know, having conversations with people. This is confirmed when I feel his hand cupping my chin, then gently raising my head back up to a more normal, non-planting-itself-onto-the-dinner-table position.

"Go to bed," he replies emphatically. He sounds like he's giving a military order. "You will be dead again if you keep this up. Though I realize that has never stopped you." I hear him push his chair back, get up, and walk to the sink. There's the sound of running water and scrubbing as he washes the rest of dishes, and clinking as he sets them on the rack to dry. "Thank you for your hospitality, and the delicious meal. I'm glad we were able to catch up. My apologies for imposing."

"Naw, it's great to see you," I say. I slouch back against my seat. My eyes are totally shut now. "Really. I'm really happy you dropped by. You're welcome anytime. 'Specially if you keep doing the cleaning. And burn the fucking drone footage."

"...Duly noted," he replies. "I will visit again, and give advance notice. I will keep an eye out for an opportunity to bring the other generals as well. When your schedule is a little less stretched."

"Sounds good," I say, giving in with no fight at all. I follow him out to the foyer with my eyes half-closed. He puts on his jacket and scarf, ties his shoes, then puts a hand on the doorknob. He hesitates, and turns slightly towards me.

"Don't worry. I can find my way to bed," I tell him.

He nods, opens the door, and steps outside.

"Take care of yourself," he says. "I will see you soon." He bows and smiles down at me. "Your ex-Majesty."

I look up at him through barely-open slits. "Bye bye, magical demon nanny," I reply. "Laundry's on even-numbered days, and garbage collection is twice a week."

He rolls his eyes. I laugh and close the door, then lock it. When I peek through the peephole, he's already gone. Whoosh.

I go to bed snickering, and soon fall fast asleep.

Author's notes: Atsuko and Yusuke have a slightly different relationship in the manga than the anime. Though still hardly a model parent, and frequently off doing her own thing, it was really nice seeing how involved she was in her son's life. Not to mention how much she and Yusuke support each other. (One of my favourite Atsuko moments is when she threatens - and actually tries, to Botan's distress - to go down and take on Toguro herself when Yusuke's getting massacred.) It's also quite apparent (due to the impressive mess that built up during his time as a ghost) that Yusuke did most of the housework, and at least some of the cooking.

I referenced Just One Cookbook for the oyakodon recipe.

Ginza is Tokyo's famous luxury shopping district. Omotesando Hills is also known for upscale fashion.

The celebrity chocolate-finding show is a reference to Sokkuri Sweets (Ultraman Dash).

And a bunch of manga volume 19 references -

Koto, Juri and Ruka form an idol group (this also appears in Eizou Hakusho).

Salonpas is a well-known Japanese brand of pain relief patches, like the ones Kokou was slapping on Enki's back when he was talking to Yusuke on the phone in the last mission.

Hokushin is referring to Yusuke's adventures in Keiko's school uniform… and maybe some others we never get to see.

The cover image and a bonus drawing can be seen bigger on my tumblr, username maiji, tagged "Yusuke and his nanny".

Last but certainly not least, I want a magical demon nanny.